


Last Past The Morning

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Series: Chris & J's Excellent Adventure [4]
Category: NSYNC
Genre: Established Relationship, Hiatus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-05
Updated: 2004-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin had Chris, finally, and good for him, but Lance had had JC, or as much of JC as JC gave to anyone; had had him for years, and maybe it was time to remind himself of that again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Past The Morning

Lance flipped shut his cell phone and stared thoughtfully at it. Justin was gone, Chris was alerted, his part in this whole thing was done, but. But. But Lance couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Chris so hopped up about something. And Justin had been quietly, achingly, happy the previous night. Any time the topic of Chris had come up--and Lance had brought it up more than once--Justin had relaxed his guard and let a true smile flash out, no matter how close the paparazzi were.

Lance remembered the red-faced conversations he'd shared with Justin in shabby European hotel rooms, the both of them more than a little drunk on the strong German beer Joey always managed to smuggle past their moms, and neither one sure enough of themselves really say what they meant, but bonding in their unanswered desires.

He remembered Justin at seventeen, curled into JC, dejected and miserable, and then the grim determination in Justin's voice not long after when he'd told Lance he and Britney were getting serious, almost daring Lance to point out what everyone but Chris--and Brit--could see.

And he needed to stop the nostalgia trip, because what had happened had happened and there was nothing that could change it. Justin had Chris, finally, and good for him, but Lance had had JC, or as much of JC as JC gave to anyone; had had him for years, and maybe it was time to remind himself of that again.

***

Lance had no idea what time it was as he punched in the security codes and let himself into JC's house. It was dark, that much he knew, but his internal clock was so far off course he couldn't remember where his phone was to check for the updated time. He just left his bag by the door and headed up the steps, toeing off his loafers and dropping shirt and sweater and pants wherever they came off.

He found JC sprawled diagonally across his bed, alone, but he wouldn't have stopped even if there had been someone else with him. It wouldn't have been the first time Lance had joined JC and whoever JC had in his bed, because you had to be that way with JC or go insane; but tonight, with the memories of Chris' not-quite-hidden excitement and Justin's smiles refusing to leave his brain, Lance wanted JC all to himself, even if he knew it was only until the next morning.

He slipped under the covers and pressed close. JC burrowed toward the heat of his body and murmured deep in his throat, "Hey, baby." He rolled Lance under him, pressing him down into the bed and kissing him deep and long while his hands roamed proprietarily, as though it hadn't been months since the last time JC had touched Lance.

Lance couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only kiss back hungrily and arch up into the hard muscles that always covered him so perfectly. He let JC take him over, let JC hold him hard against the mattress and deepthroat him until he was whining and begging. He let JC flip him over and coax him to his hands and knees, let himself be stroked and petted, let JC taste him and take him and use him and own him.

JC was the only one Lance allowed himself to be like this with, because JC was the only one who knew that Lance liked being teased until he begged only slightly more than he hated it; the only one who knew that the more JC talked, the hotter Lance got; and the only one who knew that sometimes Lance needed to be taken hard and deep and rough and not allowed to come until he wanted it so badly he couldn't even ask for it.

***

Morning came even before the sun was up, because JC had a calendar that was packed with pre-drop interviews and promo. He was gone before Lance really registered anything beyond the mouth that drove him insane and left him unable to go back to sleep.

"God, Bass, this had better be good." Joey's voice was rough with sleep, the really deep kind, and Lance realized with a jolt of guilt that he'd just dialed blindly and hadn't even thought about the time. He hoped they were at least in Florida, but decided not to ask.

"Great to hear your voice, too, Joe," Lance said, going with the brazen approach, because, after all, it wasn't as if Joey hadn't woken him up a thousand times over the years. "Put the brains of the operation on, ok?"

Joey grunted, and then said, "Yo, Kel, it's your bestest girlfriend, Lancey, calling to share with you."

"Shut up, Fatone," Lance said, and heard Kelly echoing him.

"Honey," Kelly said to Lance. "It's five-twenty-one in the goddamn morning. Even my dear darling demon-child is still asleep. You know how much I hate to echo the fathead, but this had better be good." Joey crowed a little in the background, and Lance heard some scuffling. Before he could answer, Kelly said, "Damn it, Joe, stop rubbing on me. I'm trying to talk on the phone here." There was a smack and Joey grumbling and then Kelly came back on the line.

"Ok, gorgeous, what's up?"

"Just the Supportive Friend Speech, Take Number--what number are we up to these days?" Lance was pleased that he didn't sound as needy and pathetic as he felt.

"It's probably better that we don't think about it," Kelly said dryly. "I'm assuming that since my immortal beloved is laying here making cow eyes at me and trying to cop a feel every time I look away, I get to be Rosie and you're Meg this time?"

"Yeah," Lance admitted. "I'm sorr--"

"Jesus, Joe! What part of 'stop it' does your fat Italian brain not understand?"

Lance waited patiently while Kelly explained in graphic detail what she was going to do if Joey didn't get his libido under control. "Back now, honey, and you know what I'm going to tell you. He loves you, you know he does."

"Yeah, but he loves everyone."

Kelly sighed, and Lance knew the answer to this one, too. "He's always taken care of you, honey. He just looks at the world a little differently."

Lance was suddenly ashamed that he'd woken up two of his closest friends, just so he could hear the same pathetic lines again. He knew all this. He just needed to deal with it. He got off the phone with Kelly as quickly as he could, and when he heard her giggle right before he hung up the phone, and Joey's easy laugh answering her, he thought again how right they were together, even if it had taken Joey a decade to figure that out.

The bed smelled like JC and sex, and Lance threw his phone as hard as he could against the wall.

***

Lance kept busy over the following weeks, although certainly not as busy as JC. Not even Joey knew that Lance kept up with JC's schedule, right down to the last meet and greet. If Carlos thought it odd that Lance asked to be kept up-to-date with JC's comings and goings, he kept it to himself and there really wasn't anyone else who would notice.

It hadn't always been like this. Lance had had a crush on JC right at the start; he was so nice, it was impossible not to. That had lasted, in a vague and slightly soft-focus way until they were in Germany. Then they were living on top of each other and it was impossible to keep up the lofty ideal of JC as some sort of benevolent, older and infinitely wiser crush-worthy object when he was screeching at Chris about his latest practical joke, or harping about punctuality, or babbling incoherently about, well, whatever it was the interviewer asked him.

The idealized vision of JC disappeared in a month, and sometimes, Lance still mourned that pretty fantasy. What was left, though, was the incredible energy that always surrounded JC and the unearthly ease with which he moved through a smoky club, always leaving with precisely the person he wanted. Joey called it JC in target and acquisition mode, and loved to bet with Justin about what kind of a mood JC was in whenever they went out. Since Justin was fifteen at the time, Lance had thought it a little odd at first but then, like so much else in their little insular world, it just became the way things were.

The crush might have died, but the attraction never faded, even if life was busy and there wasn't time for anything other than the next show, the next interview, the next photo shoot. Thoughts of JC were mostly limited to the occasional morning when there was enough time and hot water to take a shower that involved anything more than maximum cleanliness in the minimum of time.

Things didn't get completely surreal until JC had noticed Lance watching one of their PR team with what Lance could only assume was a transparent naive lust. Paulo was a transplanted Italian with a sense of style that could cut glass, an aura that screamed sex, and a long lithe body. Lance wanted him with a desperate hopelessness. JC had taken Lance to the bar in their hotel and bought him drink after drink, deceptively sweet, sticky drinks, until Lance was drunk enough to admit that he was afraid to say something because he was a virgin, hadn't really even kissed a guy, and would only end up humiliating himself, even if by some act of God Paulo didn't laugh in his face.

The entire night was a blur of colors and lights in Lance's memories, right up until JC had smiled, and announced he had the perfect solution. That, Lance remembered with an intense, perfect clarity. JC had leaned across the table and, very seriously, had said Lance could practice with him and then not have to worry about performance anxiety when real boyfriend material came along.

Lance had been beyond drunk; it had taken him precious seconds to understand that JC was indeed offering him--the not-quite eighteen-year-old Mississippi choirboy--an all-access pass to JC. Thankfully, he hadn't taken the offer back before Lance managed to choke out a wordless agreement, wordless because he couldn't have strung together anything remotely resembling speech if his life had depended on it. JC had laughed and pressed a very soft, very hot kiss to Lance's palm and Lance had known immediately that he'd never forget that first brush of JC's tongue on his skin.

Paulo had long since moved on to work with other pretty boybands before Lance had understood that JC had neatly removed himself, right from the beginning, from any potential of being Lance's "real" boyfriend.

***

Vegas by itself was good; Lance had always loved every neon-drenched inch of the Strip. Vegas with Joey and Chris always turned into a night of insanity. Seeing as how Chris was getting buzzed off the endorphin rush of new ink and Joey was doing his best to keep up with more traditional liquid means, Lance didn't expect this night to be much different.

On the surface, it wasn't. Chris took his usual spot at the craps table, with Lance and Joey on either side. Dealers generally loved to have Chris at their tables; the jokes and one-liners never stopped, and people flocked to the show. Chris liked it when Lance fed him set-ups, but add Joey to play straight man, and Lance knew there was no end to what a pit boss might comp Chris to keep the fun vibe at the table.

But this night, Lance also noticed Chris step away from table to take a call from Justin, coming back with a familiar, self-satisfied smirk that left no doubt in Lance's mind that Justin really could talk as good a game as Chris said he could. For one endless microsecond, Lance flat-out fucking hated Justin and the way everything always came out the way he wanted it.

Joey made time to call home twice, once to sing Briahna asleep, once to say good night to Kelly. Lance had to turn away when he noticed how closely the expression on Joey's face matched the one on Chris' and he felt the same flash of jealous anger toward Kelly. He kept going toward the men's room, and stared at his reflection for a long time, just to make sure he still looked the same, because hating friends, good friends, for their happiness, even for a second, was something Lance was going to have a hard time forgiving himself for.

***

Lance reminded himself that JC always smiled in that heart-stopping way when he saw a friend, that just because the happy, crinkle-eyed grin made Lance's stomach twist hard didn't mean that Lance was anything more than just one more person who'd shared JC's bed.

What it did mean was that Lance still couldn't say no after getting hit with one of those smiles, that he was always going to let JC guide him into the closest room with a door that locked, that he was always going to let JC push him up against the wall. One smile and it didn't matter that there were hundreds of guests and probably as many photographers, or that Jive would have their balls if anyone found them. All that mattered was JC on his knees, his mouth moving in wicked, filthy, unbearably beautiful ways while Lance tangled his fingers in the thick brown hair and bit down hard on the heel of his other hand to keep the noises from spilling out of his mouth.

JC teased him and teased him and teased him, until his knees were buckling and his vision going black, then pinned his hips to the wall and dragged a deep screaming orgasm straight out of his soul. And when Lance could finally think again, it didn't matter that he'd just come so hard that jagged streaks still danced across his eyes, every nerve ending in his body was begging for more because JC was beside him, sweater pushed up and pants half off, and one sure, knowing hand moving urgently on himself. Lance reached out with a shaky hand to cover JC's, and felt how rough JC was with himself. As if he'd been waiting for Lance, JC gave one final twisting stroke and came in the absolute silence that Lance knew meant that someone was near by.

Still silent, JC brought their joined hands to his mouth, cleaning them with long, lazy licks, blue eyes never leaving Lance. He finished with a slow sucking kiss over the bite marks Lance had left on his hand, then stood up and started putting himself back together.

Lance leaned his head against the wall and saw the small smile in JC's eyes, and wondered whom JC had targeted for this night. It was his release party; Lance had no doubt he had special plans. Lance should just leave now and go hang out with Joey, leave before he saw who would win the JC lottery. Even if Joey had left the party, he was still in New York; they had the Hilfiger show to do the next day. Lance pushed himself up the wall, fully intending to dress and find his cell phone and call Joey, and avoid any mention of after-party parties, but then JC leaned in for what Lance knew would be a long slow kiss and an invitation to join in the fun. Lance jerked his head away and stuttered, "I--I. I can't do this anymore."

JC froze.

"I just. Can't. Don't want to do this anymore." Even in the low light, Lance could see JC's eyes narrow dangerously, but he couldn't make himself stop talking. "I--this makes me--I can't.

"Right," JC hissed, the cold fury in his voice paralyzing Lance. "Because it's so fucking hard to drop in and out of my life, whenever it's convenient for you to get off. I feel for you, man. The agonies you have to go through to get some dick."

JC leaned close again, and Lance flinched, not sure if he wasn't about to get hit, and knowing that he wouldn't try to stop JC even if he did take a swing. But JC just eyed Lance with a contempt that dripped acid into his heart and said, with an icy calm that scared Lance with its quietness, "Yeah, Lance, whatever. You do what you have to." He turned and walked away, stopping for a second with his hand on the doorknob. "We'll both do what we have to."

Lance's hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries to button his jeans, and the next afternoon, when Jesse came by the Hilfiger show with the wire service pictures of JC and Lance and Joey at the release party, Lance just barely made it to the men's room before he threw up.

***

Lance hadn't thought he could feel worse, not until he spent a week trying to call JC, ending up with voice mail every time, and finally decided to just show up and talk in person only find himself standing at JC's door, suddenly useless keys in hand, with the alarm system shrieking and Tyler blinking at him sleepily through the cut-glass doors.

Tyler fumbled with the keypad by the front door and the alarm shut off in mid-whoop. He opened the door and waved Lance inside, still talking on the phone. "Yeah, it's fine, it's a friend with--" He rolled his eyes at Lance, then tried to say something three times before the person on the other end let him finish a sentence. "No, it's fine. It's an old friend, who has a key, who's had a key for years, and, y'know, just wasn't in the loop on the changeover. Thanks, I'm fine; the house is fine. You have all the proper codes, right? Yeah, I know you have to contact my brother; I understand that it's policy. Just be sure to tell him nothing's wrong."

He folded up the phone and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Not that he's gonna listen to a word they say, not with the stick he has up his butt these days." He smiled at Lance. "Hey, man, sorry about all this. Josh got some wild hair; you know how he gets sometimes."

Lance smiled weakly, but Tyler didn't seem to notice anything wrong. "I, uh, actually thought he was here in LA this week."

Tyler shrugged. "I can't keep track of his schedule, man. It changes all the time." Lance knew that; he just hadn't realized until right then that Carlos hadn't called in a few days. Tyler wandered back toward the kitchen; Lance followed after a second.

Tyler yawned. "I'd, uh, offer you some coffee, but you know what a bitch he is about the damn coffeemaker--"

"No, no, that's ok," Lance said. Bitch about the deLonghi or not, the real reason JC had fits about Tyler's coffee was that it sucked, and one time he'd burned it so badly that JC claimed he'd had to buy a new machine.

"Don't know why he can't just buy a damn Mr. Coffee for when I'm here," Tyler grumbled.

"I can make some if you want," Lance offered, but Tyler shook his head.

"Nah, I'm just as good with a Red Bull," he said, opening the refrigerator. "You want one?" Given that he hadn't really slept in a week, Lance wasn't turning down caffeine in any form so he nodded and caught the can Tyler tossed at him. Tyler snorted as he popped the top in his can. "He thinks he's so subtle; he leaves the refrigerator full of take-out and this stuff, because it's 'my favorite.'" He swallowed half the can.

Lance grinned, for what felt like the first time in days. "But you know it's just so you won't touch anything in the kitchen."

Tyler laughed. "Yeah, and it's not like I have any burning desire to cook or anything, and he really does leave good stuff, but when he gets like this, I just want to, I dunno, cook a turkey or something."

"Lasagna," Lance suggested, thinking of the disaster area that Joey produced when he decided he needed to indulge his latent Italian grandmother.

"Yeah," Tyler agreed. "Or, or call Mom and have her talk me through one of those dinner party things that takes three days to make." He finished his drink and shook his head. "Sorry, man. Did you need to get something or--"

Lance's good mood evaporated. "No, no, I just, uh, wanted to, to talk to him�"

"And you figured you'd get here at ass o'clock so you could ambush him." Tyler was joking but his eyes were serious.

"Yeah," mumbled Lance. "Sorry about waking you up and all."

"Nah, no problem. I need to get to the airport so I can go baby-sit all this shit at the place in Winter Park, too."

If ever there was a good reason for a floor to open up and swallow you, Lance thought, standing in your sometime lover's kitchen, listening to his brother describe how he was cutting you completely and totally out of his life should definitely make the top ten.

***

The rest of the guys had figured out about Lance and JC almost from the instant it started in Germany. Chris had rolled his eyes, gave them his blessing and announced firmly that he didn't want to know anything more; Joey had watched over both Lance and JC with a worried eye; and Justin had waited until he and Lance were sharing a room to hug Lance until he squeaked and demand details. Frottage, hand jobs, blowjobs, rimming, fucking, being fucked--it didn't matter. If Lance and JC were doing it, Justin wanted to know how it felt, how hard it was to do, if it was gross, if it hurt--the questions never stopped. It had been one of the few times back then that Lance hadn't felt like he was playing catch-up.

Looking back, Lance thought it might have helped keep him sane. No matter how overwhelmed he might have been, breaking everything down for a wide-eyed and fascinated Justin forced Lance to think about it rationally and keep it in perspective. It was sex--good sex, mixed with friendship, and even back then, Lance knew how truly lucky he was to have someone who cared about him as his first lover, but when it was all said and done, it was just sex.

Lance always thought that Justin knowing JC for so long and then hearing all kinds of really personal shit should have been enough to weird out several friendships, but by then, things were really taking off and no one had time to deal with the way things were supposed to be. They could barely handle the way things actually were.

Somewhere along the way, Justin grew up and started finding stuff out on his own. Then Chris put him off and Britney was there to pick up the pieces, and the group blew up in America, and Justin and Lance didn't really talk like that anymore. Lance had been a little relieved because he and JC had reached a place where there were things he wasn't sure he wanted to share, but he sometimes missed seeing Justin's eyes widen. Justin must have missed it, too, because even on the last tour, when JC was clearly on the prowl and everyone in the group knew Lance was getting lucky, J would grin and whisper, "Take notes, man," before leaving Lance to enjoy himself.

So, even though they didn't talk all that regularly since the hiatus started, Lance wasn't particularly surprised when Justin called him from Vancouver and jumped right into it. "The fuck is going on between you and C? I mention your name and he gives me that really snotty icy shit attitude of his."

Lance had less than zero desire to talk about it, but he knew that had never stopped Justin when people weren't getting along. He had this thing about fights within the group and could never let things lie. Lance was already too tired to even try to brush it off. He said, "I told him I had to stop. fucking him."

Justin whistled, long and low. "Bass. Damn. That's, that's, um, really surprising."

"Yeah, I shocked the hell out of myself, to be honest." Lance rubbed at the bridge of his nose, more out of habit than any hope that the low-grade headache might finally go away. "It just kind of came out. At his release party."

"Man, no wonder he's really being a shit," Justin said. "Lonnie was holding his cell when I called, and you know the man would walk through fire for C, but he went into great detail about this fantasy he had about smacking JC upside the head. Repeatedly."   
Lance sighed, but before he could answer, Justin said, "Look, I know how you thought it was working in the beginning, but--"

"But nothing, J. It's--we've always worked like that. I just can't do it anymore."

"Yeah, man, I know." Justin's voice was sympathetic. "But maybe he would--"

"He'll get over it," Lance said. "He just hates change."

"If you say so," Justin said doubtfully, before changing the subject and letting Lance off the hook. Even more surprisingly, he didn't once mention Chris. Given that Justin did not, and never had, understand the concept of TMI, Lance wasn't sure if he was touched at the tact Justin was showing, or depressed that J thought he needed special handling.

***

Joey, of course, never felt the need for tact. In fact, Lance was fairly certain the word did not exist in the Fatone vocabulary. And since Joey was crashing with Lance, he just grabbed Lance one afternoon, right in Lance's own office, and wrapped him up in a full-body hug. Ordinarily, Lance would have protested the alpha behavior, but the physical contact felt really good, so he kept quiet and hugged back.

"Ok, you know I love you, right?" Joey said. Lance nodded and Joey promptly smacked the back of his head.

"Ow!" Lance ducked but couldn't fully avoid the second slap. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Those were for not telling me what was going on when we were in New York," Joey said.

Lance just shrugged. Joey smacked him again, but lightly and on the shoulder.

"And that one is for letting stuff build up until you can't think straight and run scared and do the exact thing you don't really want to do."

"It's not that, Joe."

"Yeah? What is it then?" When Lance hesitated, Joey poked him and said, "Look, I don't have much time. Skip all the manly stiff-upper-lip shit and tell me what it is."

"I just can't do it anymore."

"Let's be specific here," Joey said. "You can't be with C? Or you can't be with C the way you have been?" When Lance didn't answer, Joey poked at him until he thought he'd have bruises all over his ribs. "Which one?"

"The second one," Lance mumbled.

"Yeah. That's what I thought." Joey gave Lance the mock-serious look, the one that meant he really was serious, even if he was going to pretend to be joking. "And I'm just guessing here, based strictly on the diva fit C threw when I mentioned your name, you didn't exactly say that to him, did you?"

"No," said Lance. "Why?"

"Because I don't think he'd be as pissy as he is if he'd had any say in what was happening," Joey said simply.

"I wouldn't know," Lance snapped. "He won't take my calls and his voicemail is full."

Joey smiled. "Classic JC avoidance tactic."

"It doesn't matter, Joe," Lance sighed. "It just. doesn't."

"I think it does. I've watched you two do your little not-a-serious-thing dance for a lot of years, and--"

"Joe," Lance said, through gritted teeth. "You of all people do not need to be going there."

"Yeah, I'm a blind ass. We can call Kel and start in on me next." Joey sighed. "Look, all I'm saying is that you were really young when you two started. And, no offense, man, really in over your head."

"And?" Lance said tightly.

"And you're not now. Neither one," Joey said.

Lance waited, but Joey didn't say anything more, just slapped him on the back and wandered out of the room. Lance sat and pretended to read scripts until it was too dark to see.

***

"JesusfuckingChrist, now what?" Lance snapped into his phone.

"Lance, Lance, Lance," Chris sing-songed back. "Have I taught you nothing over the years? Never hand over blackmail material that easily, dude. Taking the Lord's name in vain would not make Mama Diane happy at all. Not at all." Chris cackled a bit. "Also, I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Yeah, whatever. Y'all are driving me crazy. If J's not being all noble and tactful, Joey's smacking me around--literally. Just say whatever you feel you need to say and let me get back to something that isn't going to annoy the fuck out of me."

"Touchy, touchy," Chris said. "That answers my first question right there. No, Lansten is not happy. And since C just screeched at me for fifteen minutes, neither is the princess."

"The point, Chris. If you have one, get to it. If you don't, shut the fuck up about stuff you know nothing about, and I'll talk to you later."

"Ok, we can play it all business-like," Chris said. "J recently reminded me of something wise I said many many years ago."

"Chris--"

"Lance." Chris' voice lost the playful edge. "Never ever listen to JC about anything other than sex. He is not the go-to-guy for the feelings stuff. How to blow ten guys in one night, yes. Fifty ways to leave your lover, yes. Actually admitting in words that there might be something going on above and beyond sex or buddy-fucking? Oh, hell no."

"And you feel the need to share this because?"

"Because J is worried about you both. And--you may not have noticed this--when the infant is worried about something, he shares his concern. He has been sharing with me for quite a while now, even before JC started fucking his way through Brit's dancers, which is driving her even more batshit than she normally is, so she's calling Justin every fucking day to bitch. Which he also feels the need to share with me. All this goddamned drama is interfering with my quality time with my. Um, with Jus--"

"Your boyfriend. Say the word, Chris; it took you long enough to notice."

"I'll say it if you will."

"We. Weren't. Like. That," Lance snarled. "That was my fucking reason for ending it."

"Yeah, says who? JC? Because Pretty-In-Pink's current psychotic break isn't quite convincing me of that, I don't care what he's said or not said to you. And damn, Bass, I thought you were smarter than all this. Apparently, when we put this group together, along with the harmonies, we also got the crackerjack prize of complete and total obliviousness, so let me spell this out. The two of you are more attached to each other emotionally than most married couples I know. And here, let me turn on the blinking neon lights: that would be my fucking point. Have a nice day."

Lance very carefully closed his phone, because he'd only just managed to get all the data transferred off the last one he'd smashed, and went to find a bathing suit.

***

Lance liked swimming laps; after the first ten or fifteen, he'd slip into some sort of zen state where his conscious mind could only focus on the rhythm of the breath moving in and out of his lungs and the timing of each stroke, and his subconscious could function without interference. He got some of his best planning done in the water and he'd long ago learned to trust whatever floated up to his conscious mind, no matter how illogical it might seem.

He sent heartfelt thanks to the universe that this day proved to be no exception. By the time he was so tired he could barely pull himself out of the pool--somewhere around the three-mile mark--not only had he worked out what he needed to do, he'd figured out how to make it happen.

***

The first part was easy.

Britney came through with an "Absolutely. Call Fe whenever you get your flights set and she'll put you on the list." Lance was in the air three hours after that.

Brit's people escorted Lance past security and onto the right floor, but he didn't feel right about asking them to get him inside JC's room, so he just settled himself outside the door and sat back to wait. He caught a few curious stares from housekeeping and room service but since Brit had two floors booked, and he wasn't trashing the place, they just nodded and went about their business. Lance was under no illusion that he looked anything other than exhausted, nervous, and probably derelict because he couldn't remember the last time he'd shaved, but he was also under no illusion about how much leeway the Spears money could buy.

The hotel was the epitome of expensive calm: thick carpeting, low lights, soothing color scheme--even the elevators chimed, rather than dinged or beeped. After LAX and Heathrow and Glasgow, it was peaceful enough that when Lance put his head down on his knees, he fell into a light doze.

He jerked awake at Lonnie's rumble and looked up in time to see JC round the corner, Lonnie right behind. He needed to say something, but he was too sleep-stupid to say anything, let alone something clever and compelling.

 

"Oh, fuck," JC snapped, turning to Lonnie. "I do not need this shit--"

Justin hadn't been exaggerating because Lonnie cut JC off. "Deal with it or not, man, but not out here." Lance struggled to his feet and followed the glaring JC into the hotel room. Lonnie patted him on the back and rolled his eyes before closing the door and leaving them alone. It wasn't much but Lance was taking courage wherever he could find it.

He took three deep breaths, breathing in focus and breathing out nerves, just like JC had taught him a lifetime ago, and then turned to face his past so he could move on with his future.

***

"C'mon, man, let's get this over and done with," JC said. He was sprawled on the couch, as far away from Lance as he could get and still be in the same room. "Say your thing, save the group, let's be friends, whatever." He shrugged. "I don't have all night."

"Yeah," Lance said. "I've heard about your sudden affection for Brit's crew. But they won't be done for a while, so you have time."

"Not that I want to be spending with you."

It was Lance's turn to shrug. "Ok. I don't have much of a thing to say." It was true; he hadn't been able to think of anything, no matter how many brainstorming techniques he'd run through on the long sleepless flights. "Just, this isn't about the group; it's about us. And I don't want to be friends."

He crossed the room so that JC would have to turn his head to look away from him. "I just want you. All of you. Not when it's easy, or convenient, or when we're bored. What I should have said before was that I can't share you anymore. I want everything you've got."

"Really," JC laughed. "And just what makes you think you'll be enough for me?" Lance had always thought that JC was never so beautiful as when he blazed with arrogant confidence, but suddenly he could see doubt and hurt and uncertainty behind the front, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to grow up and stop looking with the eyes of a nervous, lovesick kid.

Lance felt his mouth curve in a genuine smile. "Because," he breathed. "Because you've spent the last six years training me how to be enough for you." He stepped closer, stepped into JC's personal space, ran a gentle finger along JC's collarbone and smiled at the tiny shiver. "Because I know that this makes you shake. Because I know that if I kiss you, and keep kissing you, you'll stay with me for hours, because you love to make out. Because I know that it doesn't matter if you're fucking or being fucked, or how many other people are with us, you won't come until I do."

JC didn't say anything but he hadn't pushed Lance away yet, so Lance took a deep breath and said it. "But mostly because I love you."

JC's eyes were a deep blue. Lance couldn't look away; he didn't know how long they stayed like that, breathing the same air, but touching only where his fingers still stroked over JC's skin. JC broke the contact first, blinking and looking down. Lance tilted JC's chin up gently. "I do. I have for a long time. Maybe always."

Lance thought his heart might stop when JC smiled slowly. He'd seen JC nearly out of his mind high on the screams of the fans, watched him take the news that No Strings had sold a million in the first day, seen him fall in love the first time he held Briahna, but he'd never seen JC look at anyone, eyes clear and unshadowed, like JC was looking at him now. "Oh," JC said, and leaned up to press a chaste, almost shy kiss against Lance's lips. "I didn't know that."

***

"I. Um, I," Lance stuttered, shocked. "Never wanted you to know. Never thought you wanted to know." He tried to pull himself together, tried to not revert to the lovesick twit, but finally had to admit he was failing miserably. Apparently, despite coming up with what turned out to be an excellent plan, his subconscious really hadn't had much confidence in him making it work.  
   
He resisted the urge to touch his lips, as though he were a child trying to touch a shadow, as if he could feel JC's kiss, but couldn't help blurting out, "And I really didn't expect--I came here to tell you that I loved you just so I knew that I had said it, so I wouldn't ever have to think 'what if', but I never thought it would matter to you." JC opened his mouth, but Lance couldn't stop babbling. "I mean, I didn't really think you'd laugh at me or walk away, even as pissed off as you've been, but, but, uh, yeah. What exactly just happened?"

"I didn't walk away?" JC sounded amused. He settled back deeper into the sofa cushions and pulled Lance down next to him. "And not to be a bitch or anything but you were supposed to be giving me the 'we can't let our personal issues affect the group' speech, not telling me you. Um. That you." He laughed shakily. "I, uh, kind of have issues with the word, you know? People throw it around like confetti, but it's supposed to mean happily ever after and forever, and fuck, don't I know that it doesn't always work out that way, but you should at least respect that it might have."

"I--"

"Yeah, no, I know you do. Respect it. We've been doing this for long enough for me to know that much about you, even if I didn't. Well, even if I can't, um, don't feel comfortable assuming stuff. like that." JC shrugged and smiled self-consciously. "So, yeah. I'm happy. That you. Um, love. Me." Lance was officially the biggest sap in the world, because he couldn't stop grinning. "But dude, I think I should be offended. Why the fuck would you think I wouldn't want to know?"

Lance chose his words carefully. "Because you made it really clear right from the start that we weren't like that."

JC was staring at him, mouth half open in surprise. "Well, no, we weren't. Because you had a thing for what's-his-name. The Italian twink who used to do PR for Lou."

"Paulo," Lance muttered. "Not that anything ever happened with him."

JC smirked. "It was probably for the best. Who really knows what else he was doing for Lou?"

"Shit," Lance said, choking. "I did not need that visual." "Yeah, me neither. Sorry, man." JC shook his head. He looked down at his hands. "Joe was pretty pissed at me, you know. When he found out about us back then. He didn't quite call me a slut, but, yeah." He shrugged. "He was, was just being Joey, and looking out for you, but he was clearly not happy about my being with you."

"I didn't know," Lance said quietly.

"Yeah, I didn't think you did, but I thought you might have said some stuff to him that made him worry."

"Probably," Lance said. "Not intentionally, but, I. Shit, C, I had no idea what I was doing, and you weren't just not in my league, you weren't even on the same planet." He leaned over and covered JC's mouth to stop whatever he was going to say. "You weren't. I was barely even out. After we got together, I was, uh, kind of out of my mind." Right after and, given his recent less than intelligent behavior, apparently for always, thought Lance.

"You should have said something," JC said. "We could have taken things a little more slowly."

"And risk you deciding the virgin novelty wasn't worth the hassle?" Lance snorted. "Yeah, no way, man."

JC stiffened. "Ok, now I really am offended," he said. "You weren't a novelty; it wasn't a game, ok? It started how it started, and I know everybody has a good time with my sex life, but I don't hook up with anyone I don't want. I didn't then, and I sure as fuck don't now." He was up and pacing and wouldn't even look at Lance.

"You were seventeen, we were working all the goddamned time, it was maybe just for fun at first, but you know what? Fuck you. And fuck Joe and his assuming that I was just out to pop a cherry. Fun didn't mean it wasn't something I wanted and valued and thought was a good part of my life, and goddamn it, it's been six fucking years, and who the hell else have I ever wanted to be with for that long--"

Lance finally caught up with JC and wrapped his arms around him, holding on from behind until JC ran out of words. "Shh, shh, I'm sorry," he whispered into the back of JC's neck, pressing a small kiss of apology into the satiny skin. "I didn't mean it that way; it was stupid of me to say it. You were right. I was seventeen, and I couldn't think of any reason you'd want to be with me, and I was so scared you'd wake up and realize that. All I could think of was to try to play it cool, like you weren't the most unbelievably amazing thing that had ever happened to me, and hope that I didn't act like too much of a clueless dork." He rested his forehead on the back of JC's shoulder. "And I guess I never stopped to think that it could be any different."

JC relaxed back into Lance's arms, and said, "Hey, I like clueless dorks."

"Yeah, well, you also like rock stars, and surfers, and snowboarders, other assorted scarily competent and really hot types."

"Yeah, I do." JC turned around in Lance's arms and shook his head. "Funny how none of them are astronauts, are they?" He kissed Lance slowly, as if tasting him for the first time. "And--maybe even more importantly--how none of them can talk dirty to me in Russian."

Lance smiled and took his cue, and decided that JC didn't need to know that he was reciting the emergency manual start-up procedure for the gyroscope.

***

It was later, much later, long after Lance had showered and JC had ordered half of the room service menu because he wanted to make sure Lance had something he'd like, after they'd left a trail of clothes through the suite, and tripped and fallen onto the king-sized bed, JC giggling helplessly at their lust-induced clumsiness, that Lance started to believe. He took JC's face in his hands and gently dropped kisses at random--cheekbone, eye, temple. JC kept his face upturned and smiled a little wider at each brush of Lance's lips. Lance smiled back and licked at JC's mouth, asking wordlessly to be let in.

Mine, Lance thought. Mine. He traced a slow wandering path along a strong jaw and neck until he could bite at a collarbone, gently, trying to not leave marks. Mine, he thought again, and felt the rush as a nipple hardened under his mouth. He scraped his teeth over it, then soothed the hurt with his tongue until JC groaned and arched under him. Mine, mine, mine. He didn't have to be gentle when he got to the hips that twisted and rocked against him, just held them steady so he could bitelicksuck until the blood rushed hard to the surface of the pale skin. He growled in satisfaction to have marked what was his.

_Mineminemine_, the voice in his head hissed as his teeth sank into the hard muscles high on the inside of JC's leg. It sang it in wordless satisfaction when Lance slowly took JC in his mouth and howled in triumph as JC cried out harshly. It was a constant presence as Lance eased three fingers inside JC, stretching and teasing and watching with something close to awe as JC writhed on them, fucking himself even as he begged for more.

The voice never stopped, not when JC traced one ankle up Lance's back and slipped his knee over Lance's shoulder, not when Lance slowly pressed inside JC, not when JC raked his nails down Lance's back and snarled threats and insults over Lance's slow pace. It wasn't until JC reached between them to touch himself that Lance finally said it out loud, gritting it out and slapping JC's hand away. Once he said it, he couldn't stop. He said it with every thrust, every breath, every gasp, until he was practically sobbing it; and JC answered him word for word, _yesyesfuckyesyoursyoursyours_.

***

By the time Lonnie delivered Lance to the airport, Lance blearily decided that between flying out and talking and sex, he had slept for no more than four of the previous seventy-hours. JC hadn't let him do more than catnap, but really, Lance thought, he couldn't complain about that part. At least he'd gotten a shower before he had to face the flights back home, so he was clean. Or as clean as you could get while being pinned against a tile wall and fucked mercilessly while water ran near by.

He held it together to change planes in London and then crashed hard on the flight to California. Jesse met him at LAX with a change of clothes and an updated schedule, and Lance spent that afternoon and evening and the entire next day at a dead run to make up for the stuff he'd rearranged to fly out to Scotland.

***

  
The FedEx envelope had been in the middle of the stack of mail Lance had finally decided he needed to sort before he went to bed. After dealing with a half-dozen utterly routine pieces of correspondence, the last thing he'd been prepared for was the piece of lined composition paper wrapped around a set of keys that had fallen out of it. He stood next to his desk, staring at the paper for a long time, rereading the words again and again before they made sense.

_I wish I could tell you that I forgot to say this because I was so caught up in the taste and feel of you, but that would be a lie. I didn't forget. I was just too scared. Maybe soon, I won't be, and I won't have to bail and say it in a letter. But it didn't seem right to make you wait until I get my shit together, so I'm wussing out with a somewhat clearer conscience. _

_I love you. _

_JSC_

_P.S. Keep track of these; they're my only set. Tyler will kick my ass if I lose them and ask him go through that hassle again. _

Lance sat down heavily on the floor, eight neatly labeled keys in one hand, note in the other and fumbled for his cell phone. JC answered with a sleepy, "Hey, baby," and Lance asked, "What the hell are we doing?"

"Doing things right?"

"Just like that?" Lance lay back on the floor. "We're going to wave a magic wand, say the L word and that's it? We're going to just say no to the all-you-can-fuck buffet and expect happily ever after?"

"Baby," JC yawned. "Not that I don't appreciate the 'we' in that sentence, but you aren't really worried about you, are you?"

"Yeah," Lance admitted, thinking about the clubs and the parties and the beautiful people in them. "I am. A little." He bit down on his lip, hard, wondering how he could have mastered Russian and physics, and still be such an absolute moron. "It's just, it's been a way of life. A habit. And I don't want it to be like that but it's so easy slide back into bad habits."

"Oh," said JC, sounding a little more awake. "Um, well, J's always telling me that it takes three weeks to make or break a habit, so that doesn't seem so bad, right?"

"No, three weeks is completely doable." Lance sat back up. "He's right, too. Don't tell him I said that."

"Not a word," JC promised. "And seriously, if I think about it, there isn't one fuck I've had in, well, in a really long time that I wouldn't trade in a heartbeat for you."

Nobody but JC could say something like that and sound not only sincere, but actually romantic, Lance thought. He wondered how he'd managed to win on this spin of the karma wheel.

"Oh, wait." JC sounded a little guilty. "There was this one time that I swear I'd pass on if it came up again, but I'd probably be a little bitchy about turning it down, because, really, man, it was exceptional."

"C, it's--"

"No, no, it won't ever happen again; it took this cosmic alignment of schedules so it's not gonna be a problem."

Lance struggled for a minute to get his voice under control; he was the one who'd started the whole conversation, after all, and it would be beyond rude to be laughing when he answered, especially when JC was sounding so earnest. He'd just managed to take a deep breath when a sudden thought struck him.

"C? Uh, you're not talking about your Grammy hook-up, are you?" The silence on the other end of the line was answer enough. "Ok, look, I know I'm not supposed to know about that, but the Js had one of their bets going and you know the winner never shuts up, so I kind of found out, and, uh, if that ever becomes viable again, do you, um. Do you think they'd go for a four-way? Because that is an opportunity that should not be squandered."

"Dude." JC was smiling, his big, completely happy smile; Lance could hear it in his voice. "Dude, that would fucking rock. They're like the coolest cats, totally open to new experiences, and they'd completely groove on adding you to the mix. Nic has this thing about deep voices and Southern accents; you'd make her night, and, well, you know how I feel about being able to watch you, when I can just focus on you and your pleasure, and oh, man, he'd do you right, hands and knees, baby, have you screaming before he was finished, and then it'd be my turn, and god, you'd be all open and slick for me, I could slide right in, be so deep in you. I'd be gentle because I'd know that I could have you again the next night, all to myself, so right then I'd just fuck you slow and deep, and they'd like that, because they're in love, too; and when I couldn't stand it anymore, when I couldn't breathe for how much I wanted you, you'd know, and you'd moan and tell me to come for you, and I'd feel it as much as hear it, your beautiful voice all for me, only for me, and I would, I'd come for you, come buried in you, and fuck, Lance, it's so good, so good."

All Lance had to do was grind down once with the heel of his hand and he was coming, bloodhot and shaking, sharp copper in his mouth where he'd bitten through his lip to keep quiet so he wouldn't miss a word. JC was gasping now, rough, harsh pants, and Lance knew he'd held back so he could hear Lance.

"Come for me," Lance said, low and breathless. "Now, baby, now; I want to hear it, just like you heard me, hear you lose control, want to hear you wail; come on, Josh, come on, give it to me."

"_Fuckfuckfuck_," JC groaned. "_Iwantyou_." His voice wavered and broke, and Lance moaned softly with him.

"Yeah, baby, there it is." He curled in around himself and waited for the room to stop spinning.

"Baby," JC said. "God. Three weeks of that might kill me, but I will fucking die a happy man." There were rustling noises, and then he muttered, "I need a room with two beds if we're going to keep this up. This is nasty; I'm moving to the couch for the rest of the night." He was trying to sound put out about it, but Lance could practically see the smug look on his face.

Lance stretched out on the floor, still completely dressed, and tried to remember what the problem had been. "Next time," he laughed, "remind me to change out of my clothes before I have a crisis and call you so you can calm me down." He shimmied out of his pants and looked at them in dismay. "If I didn't love this suit so damn much, I'd just toss it because there is no doubt what happened to these pants. God, I can't take these to my regular cleaners," he moaned.

"Oh, shit, man, not the black Hugo Boss? That was my favorite, too," JC mourned. "You're all sharp and distant in that suit, like a yuppie accountant on the surface, all safe and boring, but I know what's going on underneath, and I'm the only one you show the kink to. Man, I'm so so sorry I ruined it."

"It's, uh, no problem, C," Lance said quickly. "It'll clean up fine; I'll find someplace where they don't know me." Who knew JC had such an attachment to his clothes? Lance needed to be paying better attention, because God knew the payoffs were worth it.

JC muttered and mumbled and bitched softly about having thrown his favorite pillow across the room and other assorted JC-night-issues.

"JC," Lance said. "Baby, you need to sleep. You have stuff soon."

"Don't want today to end."

Lance smiled. "Darlin', your 'today' ended a while ago. You can sleep and wake up and it'll still be the same day, ok?"

"You're," JC started, then yawned enormously. "Trying to trick me," he muttered.

Lance managed to not laugh, not even when JC yawned twice more. "I hate it when you're right," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," Lance said.

"I'm not," JC said, slurring his words together. Lance could tell he was almost asleep again. "Glad you called and freaked on me. Did I help?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Lance said. "Even before you trashed my favorite suit." And shirt, thought Lance, stripping it off, because there was no way the silk was going to clean.

JC mumbled, "Horny freak."

"Yes, you are," Lance laughed. "Turn off your phone, baby."

JC snored.

Still laughing, Lance started to hang up, but then scrabbled through desk drawers until he found the extra hands-free rig for his phone, right where he'd put it so that when Chris inevitably broke the one in his car, he'd have a back up.

Collecting his clothes, Lance told his inner-accountant to fuck off about the cell phone charges. And then told his internal sap monitor to join it because it wasn't every day you finally accepted that the guy you'd been in love with since you were sixteen actually loved you back, and he was planning on enjoying the moment.

He carefully smoothed out the note, and put it in his wallet, then dropped the keys on his desk so he'd remember to get copies made. JC snorted and started with the gargling noise that had been known to drive Chris and Justin to sleep on the floor on Lance and Joey's bus. Lance thought that maybe he was supposed to be lonely, that listening to this across an ocean and a continent was supposed to make him doubt his decision, but as he made his way upstairs to his bedroom to clean up and find something to wear, he decided he didn't care.

It was close to midnight in California; JC would be getting up in a couple of hours in the UK to deal with sound checks and interviews. Lance climbed into bed with a stack of scripts and his phone, listening to JC's snoring while he read and waited until he could say good morning to his boyfriend.


End file.
